


The Prince of Starlight

by LWilham



Series: The Heir to Moondust [1]
Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms
Genre: Everyone Is Gay, F/F, M/M, Magical Shenanigans, Princess Kaguya Myth, Trans Character, fairy tale themes, magical mysteries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28439487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LWilham/pseuds/LWilham
Summary: An outbreak of strange curses and a kingdom in chaos…Leaves Lunette’s young, cheerful, and sometimes ridiculous Prince Cricket one choice. He must set out in search of answers to protect his people. Begrudgingly, his best friend and protector, Lady Knight Ignacia, joins him on his quest.Along the way, they meet a dashing if not rigid young hero named Yoshi, who is bent on slaying monsters and upholding justice.Swords, and opinions clash as Yoshi and Cricket work together to solve the mysteries that surround them. But they must set aside their differences—and budding feelings—to find the culprit before the perpetrator can launch their next attack on Lunette and plunge the kingdom into darkness.
Series: The Heir to Moondust [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083155
Kudos: 1





	1. Author's Note

First and foremost, thank you, dear reader, for finding my quant little story and giving it a look see.

A note on publishing

I will begin publishing chapters for The Prince of Starlight regularly on February 26, 2021. Updates will happen bi-weekly on Tuesdays and Fridays. As I intend to have the story written before I begin posting updates, there shouldn't be any hold ups barring my life not becoming crazy for whatever reason.

A note on the quality of this story

It will not have been run through an editor by the time you read it. It will have been self-edited, and beta read by a few of my closest writing buddies, but not formally edited. This means there may be some typos or grammatical errors that snuck by us, and some of the content may change when I go to formally publish it. This also means that your notes will be taken into consideration when I go through to edit it again for formal publishing. So you get to be a part of my process, you go Glen Coco!

Finally

The Prince of Starlight is the first in a three book series titled The Heir to Moondust. Yes, that means you get three stories of Cricket and his crew. Yay!

That's all from me.

Happy reading!

Lou


	2. Prologue

The tricky thing about stories is this, they all have to start somewhere. For some it is with "once upon a time", others with "it was the best of times".

This story begins thus...

In a kingdom along the shore of the ocean Selene (named so for the great goddess of the moon who cried the ocean into being when her beloved Endymion was lost) there was a young king called Jaxith, who was very happy. For in not but a fortnight his darling wife would give birth to their first child, and his family would be complete. He would have his loving wife, and their bouncing baby who would fill the halls of his castle with laughter and light like it had not known when Jaxith was a child.

But as with many good things, this too had to come to an end. And as with all good stories, this one, too, is fraught with sadness.

When the time came for the queen to give birth, there were many complications. And though Jaxith had called for the best midwife in the land, she could do nothing to save child or mother, leaving Jaxith alone once more.

And though Jaxith had called for the best midwife in the land, she could do nothing to save child or mother, leaving Jaxith alone once more

***

  
For many years, the young king lived with his loneliness, and instead filled his life with taking care of his people, but it was not enough. There was an emptiness still inside of him, a deep dark pit threatening to swallow him whole at all times. And so one evening as he stared up at the moon, he sent up a quiet prayer.

"I do not ask for much, Selene. I give my life in service to your kingdom, and its people. I give my days to see that they are well, and happy, and fed. And for these long years, I have asked for nothing in return." Jaxith's voice was low.

A soft breeze carried petals from the cherry blossoms past Jaxith's window, flickering pale and gentle in the moonlight, as if to say, _What is it you ask of me?_

"I want only this," Jaxith said, swallowing around a well of tears that threatened to choke off his request. "I would have a child of my own. An heir to your great kingdom. Who will care for and look after your people when I am gone. Surely, that cannot be too much to ask."

Jaxith waited for an answer, staring up at the moon. When not breeze, nor animal, nor any other sign came that the goddess had heard, he exhaled deeply. Shoulders slumping forward, the king pulled himself from the window and retreated to his bed.

***

  
Many moons passed, and spring turned to summer, turned to autumn, before Jaxith received an answer. (It was quite a long wait for one's greatest wish to be granted, but if you ask anyone who knows anything about magic, they'll tell you this. "Magic, good magic, takes time.")

The king's hunting party had been prepared for the annual Lunar Festival Midnight Hunt for a fortnight. So, when the time came, even the horses seemed to feel the excitement. Their hooves stomped the ground in a steady rhythm as the moon's bright face rose high into the sky. When she was at her zenith, the first sound of a flute rent the air, and they were off.

Jaxith and his brother Sunil, a young man some years Jaxith's junior, led the way. They traveled deeper into the wood to the west of Lunette, moonlight dappling the forest floor in her grey-blue gaze. Making it difficult to see, and even more difficult to find prey. The two brothers parted ways as the hunt continued, and some minutes later Jaxith saw a flash of white from the corner of his eye.

The long-eared rabbit streaked across the lush undergrowth, fluttering in and out of view like a specter as it hopped from one pool of moonlight to another. Jaxith dismounted quietly, holding his hand to his lips to still his horse, and tied the beast to a tree. Then he pulled a glinting dagger from his boot and crept after the scuttling creature.

It led Jaxith deeper and deeper into the forest (which should have given him pause, but as things go in these stories, it did not) until there was hardly any light left to show him the way. Jaxith lost sight of the creature then, spinning in place to find it again, but instead of the soft white fur of a rabbit his eyes caught on a single beam of moonlight filtering through the leaves to light the recesses of a tree hollow.

A branch snapped beneath Jaxith's boot as he walked closer, and then a cry broke the stillness. A child wailing at having been woken from their slumber. Jaxith jerked and stumbled, nearly falling to his knees in the mossy undertow of the forest. When he regained his feet, the child was still weeping. He clenched his fists, took a steadying breath, and approached the tree.

Bathed in moonlight, the child's midnight blue hair glittered with stardust, and their blue eyes seemed almost silver as they met the king's dark gaze. In that breadth of a second, the wailing had stopped, and the child peered at the king curiously through thick lashes.

"Hello there, little one," Jaxith whispered, reaching out a hand towards the babe. To Jaxith's surprise, the child reached back. Their chubby fist closing around Jaxith's little finger and gripping it tightly. "And what's your name then?"

A blink of wide blue eyes was the child's only answer.

"Hmm, then what shall we call you?" Jaxith continued, his other hand moving to scoop the babe out of the tree and into his arms.

The king turned and a soft breeze rustled the trees above, dragging with it leaves, and the faint sound of crickets. It was as if it were a gentle message from Selene herself.

_Take care. Teach him to be kind._

Although the words went unsaid, Jaxith heard them all the same, and he nodded in understanding.

"I think Cricket will be fitting, don't you?"

The child squealed, his eyes squeezing shut in joy and a gummy smile lighting his face.

"Yes, that will do quite nicely." Jaxith nodded to himself. Another flash of white fur caught his eye, and he smiled softly. "Will you lead me back then?"

The rabbit didn't answer (they never did, even magic rabbits didn't answer silly questions), it merely hopped in a small circle and darted through the forest again, leading Jaxith back the way he'd come.


	3. Chapter One

Nearly eighteen years later finds the young prince Cricket much grown, but no less jovial, and mischievous for it. His midnight hair is long, sweeping well past his back, trailing stardust in his wake. His smile...is just the same, though not quite as gummy anymore.

Scrambling over the wall used to be a lot easier, he remembered that much. Before they'd lost that twisting willow that sat right next to it. Why had they lost that again? Oh yes, it'd been struck by lightning last summer. Stupid lightning just had to go and spoil the best escape route along the whole perimeter.

"Great moonbeams and starlight, when did I get so out of shape?" Cricket asked, not expecting an answer as his fingers clung to the top of the wall and his boots scraped against the smooth stone.

"I think it was about the time Lieutenant Chiaki retired to be with her grandchildren," came a sarcastic drawl from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, Cricket could just make out the red clothed figure of Ignacia where she stood, no doubt looking cross, behind him.

"Iggy!" Cricket yelped, releasing the top of the wall and falling to his feet with a soft thud. "What brings—" A few loose pebbles from the wall fell, littering the prince's dark tunic in a fine layer of dust. Cricket brushed it away, laughing nervously. "What brings you out this way?"

"Fumiya is looking for you."

"Is he now?" Cricket dusted his hands off on his trousers, blowing a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.

Ignacia raised one auburn brow, her light brown face taking on a look of impatience. She was going to have a go at him, Cricket could just feel it. If he were anywhere else, he might have tried to step back from her and make a run for it. But there was a wall behind him, and if he tried to run passed her she'd just catch him.

"Whatever for?" He tried to sound innocent. He sounded innocent, right? Nothing to see here. Just a prince skipping out on his lessons to go play in the streets like a common—

"I believe you know whatever for."

Oh. Oh no. She was mad.

"Is this about the history lessons? Because I know all of it, Iggy. I swear I do. And besides, Fumiya is so boring. There is nothing at—"

"You know it all do you?" Ignacia's lips had turned up in a teasing smile. And oh, great Selene, that was worse. That was so much worse.

"Y-yes?" He looked from the corner of his eye to see if there was a quick way out, but it was just wall and yard as far as the eye could see. She'd catch him no trouble, her foot work had always been superior.

"You don't sound terribly sure."

"I'm sure." He nodded firmly.

"Are you?"

"Yes. Positive. I know all the material—"

"Who was the king of Helio when your great great grandmother Jeong was queen?" Ignacia's pink lips were tipped up at one corner, showing off a truly impressive dimple that Cricket might call cute. You know, if he didn't want to live to see his eighteenth name day.

"Trick question, it was twins." Cricket bounced on the toes of his boots, brushing a long dark blue strand of hair from his face. "A brother and sister. Queen Alrika, and King Ajax."

Ignacia narrowed her eyes, lips pursing. "And who was their heir?"

"Their great niece, the lady Kyong."

"What year was the Great War?"

"8902, the year of the Rabbit. And the participants of the war were Helio, Lunette, and to a smaller degree Hermes. Although their ruler, Queen Calixte refused to give her full forces," Cricket recited, his pale blue eyes twinkling.

Ignacia drew down her brows, annoyance painted across her features.

"Did I pass?"

"It was satisfactory." She nodded, uncrossing her arms to pull a little purse from her pocket. "Honestly, I don't know how you can memorize an entire textbook in a week, but you can't seem to recall what you had for breakfast."

Cricket shrugged. "Textbooks are easy. You just read the words, and recite them. People are harder."

"Oh?" She seemed to be counting something in the little purse. He wondered how much longer she'd keep him there before she called the guards. Surely, she didn't intend to drag him back to his lessons on her own. Or at least he hoped she wouldn't drag him back by herself. That always ended in pain.

"Yes. They're all...." He frowned trying to think of a word that could describe them. "Fiddly."

She stopped counting, looking up from the purse to send him an incredulous look. "Fiddly?"

"Fiddly." Cricket nodded. "That's why I need to go into the city. So I can understand them better." 

"Is that what you were doing? Going out to learn?" The air quotes were implied, but Ignacia was too refined to use them physically.

"Yes."

She didn't say anything, just went back to counting whatever was in the purse.

"Textbooks aren't going to teach me to be king," he said when it looked like she wasn't going to let him off. He thought perhaps she was going to grab him by the ear and drag him back to Fumiya as she had so many times before. Then he'd spend all afternoon fighting to stay awake. "And honestly, I haven't been into the city since my seventeenth name day. That's nearly a year, Iggy. A year!"

"Here." She held out the purse when she'd finished her inspection of its contents. Still not acknowledging his obvious distress.

"What's this?" He took it, weighing it carefully in his palm. He supposed there was money inside, but he didn't really know how that all worked.

"If you're going out into the city, you ought to have some spending money. And we had better pick up some dumplings for Fumiya to make sure he doesn't tell your uncle." Ignacia moved to the wall, looking up at the top of it thoughtfully. Then she leaped up, her fingers holding onto the edge, and pulled herself up to sit on the top in a motion that seemed to Cricket so smooth it had to have been practiced. Cricket looked up at her dumbfounded. "We need to be back before your meeting with your uncle and Marwa. If you skip another advisor meeting, I fear he might just send you off to the monastery like he's been threatening."

Her feet swung from where she was perched on the ledge. The heels of her boots scuffing against the stone as she looked down at him, unimpressed. You'd never know that of the two of them, Ignacia was the servant, and Cricket was the prince. And honestly... how in the name of Eos did she make it look so easy?

"You coming or what?"

"Uh... yeah! Yeah, I'm coming. Give me a hand up?" He scrambled to get his fingers onto the ledge again.

"You're a big boy, you figure it out." Ignacia scoffed, and turned to leap off the other side.

They spent the next few hours winding their way through the market of the capital  
They spent the next few hours winding their way through the market of the capital. Zig-zagging from vendor to vendor as they sampled dumplings and the last of the season's strawberries. The day was warm, the company was good, and it was all too easy to lose track of time. Really, Cricket couldn't be blamed for it, wasn't it Ignacia's job to keep him on schedule? He was fairly certain it was.

By the time the bells chimed throughout the city to let all of the capital's residents know that it was three in the afternoon, they were already late.

"Is that the three o'clock bell?" Cricket asked, dread gripping his insides into a vice.

"Hmm?" Ignacia mumbled around the mochi she was stuffing into her face. She stopped chewing for a moment to count the bells, and then her face paled. "Oh no."

"Thank you again." Cricket smiled, bowing to the owner of the little stall selling the mochi. "It was truly delicious. I especially loved the—"

But he didn't get to finish as Ignacia had grabbed him by the wrist and started dragging him back towards the castle. Cricket yelped, feet pounding on the stone behind her. They dodged a vendor moving his cart to the other side of the street to get out of the late afternoon sun, and a small herd of ducklings.

"Excuse us! Excuse me! I'm so sorry! My apologies! Excuse us!" Cricket shouted over his shoulder as they nearly knocked over more than one old granny out shopping for her weekly vegetables. Great moonbeams, where had the time gone? Hadn't it just been eleven?

"Your uncle is going to kill us. He's really going to this time. He'll skin me alive, and then have me sent to a convent. And he'll ship you off to that monastery up in the mountains. The one where the monks beat you with those giant wooden ladles if you speak more than once a week." Ignacia was saying, only half paying attention to the nonsense coming out of her mouth as she dragged him along.

"I won't let him skin you alive." Cricket aimed for reassuring, but when she turned to cut him a look as if to say this is all your fault, he decided it probably wasn't helping. "Or send you to a convent."

Ignacia shook her head, and kept running. T'would appear she didn't have time for his nonsense, and honestly, neither did he. Because she was probably right, Uncle Sunil was definitely going to try to convince Father to send him to the monastery after this.

"This is the fourth meeting you've been late to this month," Ignacia hissed through her teeth.

"I'm sorry Iggy. I really am."

She turned to level him with another glare. Which was impressive when they were still running full speed ahead. And there it was. There was the castle wall. All they had to do was make it over and pretend they'd merely gotten caught up in some discussion or other in the library. Cricket had left the library window open. No one would be the wiser. Absolutely—

One moment Cricket was running, the next he and Ignacia were a tangle of limbs in a mud puddle on the side of the street with another person.

"Why don't you watch where you're going!" The person snarled as the three fought to get themselves extricated from one another. Ignacia was free first, then she helped the irritable man to his feet while Cricket sat in the mud. Because sure, why not, things couldn't get much worse.

"We're very sorry," Cricket said, leaping to his feet and pulling the long braid over his shoulder to assess the damage. Mud. Mud everywhere. There was no time to change, no time for a bath, and little chance Uncle Sunil wouldn't notice.

"Yes, well you shou—" The man stopped mid-sentence when he got a look at the long braid that Cricket was trying to pull the worst of the debris out of. Cricket looked up with a frown at the sudden stop. The man was wearing a truly gaudy velvet tunic (he'd never get the mud out of it, and that thought pleased Cricket greatly), and a rather ridiculous expression of only just now realizing he might have put his foot in his mouth.

"No time." Ignacia grabbed his wrist, and they were off again before the man could pull his foot from his mouth and say anything else.

They made it to the wall in record time, and then Ignacia was crouching down, weaving her fingers together into a basket. Cricket put his foot into her hands, and let her give him a lift up to the top of the wall. He turned back to offer her a hand up, but she'd already made the jump and was scrambling up the side without his aide.

"Don't worry about me," she grunted as her boots scuffed for a foot hold. "Get your ass to the meeting hall!"

"Right." Cricket leaped off the other side into the soft grass, the force of it bringing him to his knees. "Grass stains."

"Add it to the list." Ignacia huffed, dropping down beside him. "Run!"

Pushing to his feet, Cricket took off at a run. There was no point in scuttling through the library window now, he'd only get mud all over the books. The best he could do was head in through the kitchen entrance, and try to think of a good lie on the way.

A good excuse. A good excuse. A good excuse.


	4. Chapter Two

He'd thought of one, he really had. Cricket had thought of a wonderfully valid excuse (a lie, he'd thought of a lie) for why he was, what? Fifteen minutes late? No. That wasn't right, the clocks read thirty after three as he raced past them. Oh no. Oh great Selene! Uncle Sunil really was going to send him to the monastery. Thirty minutes late and covered in mud. But the moment he skidded through the doorway into the meeting room to see Uncle Sunil, Marwa, Anstice, and... oh wonderful... an emissary from the kingdom of Hermes, if the deep blue robes were anything to go by, he'd quite forgotten what the excuse (lie) was.

"Uncle," Cricket said, plastering on a charming smile (the one that showed off his dimples, and usually got him out of trouble or into more of it depending), and standing up straight just how Father had taught him kings were supposed to stand. "So sorry to keep everyone waiting."

Uncle Sunil's face had turned a new shade of red, somewhere in the vermillion family. Which would have been funny, and spectacular, and all things hilarious if it weren't for the way his dark glinting eyes were fixed on Cricket of all people. Cricket saw Marwa shake her head as she struggled to suppress a fond smile, and Anstice duck her head behind one of her beautifully hand painted fans. Well. They weren't going to be any help.

"I don't think we've been introduced." Cricket took two great steps around the table, careful to avoid Uncle, and held his hand out to the emissary. "You're from Hermes, yes?"

The man looked down at his outstretched hand, and Cricket saw his lip curl. Glancing down Cricket found the hand was caked in still drying mud. He laughed nervously, and tucked it back behind him, opting for a respectful bow instead.

"Cricket," Uncle Sunil said, his voice strained for politeness. There was a vein on his temple which Cricket and Anstice had taken to placing bets on. They'd watch Uncle Sunil get truly enraged, and then bet how many beats per minute it was pulsing at. Right that moment it looked like it was about to explode. "This is Lord Benoit. He was visiting to bring your father a message, and decided he'd like to stop in and see—"

"And see how the young prince was doing with his matters of state," Benoit interrupted, which only made Uncle Sunil's vein pulse harder. Anstice made a noise like a laugh, and then covered it with a cough. Benoit took no notice. "We'd heard that your father had given you a few villages to manage?"

Honestly, Cricket had to give it to Benoit, the man knew how to put up a front. If he hadn't cringed away from sullying himself with Cricket's grubby hands not but a few minutes ago, Cricket would believe nothing was amiss in this room. This room where Uncle Sunil's face was hot enough to fry an egg, Anstice was nearly doubled over where she leaned against the table, and Cricket was trailing muddy footprints everywhere he went. Nothing at all to see here. Just a normal day in court. And really, it kind of was just a normal day in Lunette, but Cricket wasn't about to say as such.

"Ah yes," Cricket nodded, his smile softening around the edges from the charming thing that it had been into something more thoughtful. "I've been taking care of Candra and Natsuki since... How long has it been again Uncle?"

"Since your seventeenth name day," Anstice supplied. She'd recovered from her bought of giggles, dropped her fan, and was pulling from the piles of papers on the table some reports. "About eight months, if I'm not mistaken."

"Nine," Marwa corrected softly. "Well... nearly nine."

"Thank you, Mother." Anstice pulled a sheet of paper from the stack to let Cricket and Benoit look over statistics on the crops from that year. "It was a very good season for both villages."

"And there you have it." Cricket tapped the paper as if it held all the answers. "You can return home to Hermes and tell everyone that Lunette is in safe hands with me."

"Of course. Of course." Benoit nodded agreeably. "There was never any doubt. Now, if you'll excuse me, I do have to deliver that message to his highness."

"It was a pleasure meeting with you, Lord Benoit." Cricket pulled the charming, dimpled smile back onto his lips, and offered the man another polite bow.

"You as well, Your Highness. Please, next time you are in Hermes, feel free to pay me a visit." Benoit bowed even lower, and when he rose there was a twinkling of mischief in his eyes, as if he thought this whole thing rather funny. And well, maybe it would be if Uncle Sunil didn't skin Ignacia alive, and send Cricket to a monastery. Benoit had just risen in Cricket's esteem though.

"I will," Cricket promised.

Benoit said his goodbyes to the others and left. Once he was out of ear shot, Cricket hunched his shoulders waiting for the shout that was—

"You impudent, immature, impetuous, rude, moronic, little brat!"

Ah... there it was.

"Sunil," Marwa said. Her tone was soft, but there was a hint of warning there, as if advising Uncle Sunil not to take this dressing down too far. And oh great Selene, what had Cricket ever done to deserve her and her loyalty? Other than being adopted by the king, of course.

"No. Marwa. He's gone too far this time. Skipping lessons. Jumping the wall. Falling into mud puddles. Being late. Embarrassing me." Uncle Sunil said that last bit as if it were Cricket's worst sin of all, and Cricket supposed maybe in his eyes, it was.

"I didn't mean to be late. I just lost track of time." It was a weak defense even to his own ears, but he had to try, didn't he?

"I'll have you shipped off on the first carriage out of here. You can go up the mountains and let the monks teach you some manners. Mark my words." Uncle Sunil was wagging his finger in a rather dangerous way, Cricket hoped he didn't hit himself or someone else with it. And then he turned and stormed off.

"Well," Cricket said when he was gone, deflating into a chair. "That could have gone better."

Anstice tutted, moving over to him to smack him lightly on the head with her fan. "Where were you?"

Cricket held up a hand, smiling a little, and then he pulled a small box of strawberry mochi from his bag. Anstice squealed in delight, scooping them up.

"I take it back. I don't care where you were!" She took a bite of one with a happy murmur.

Marwa was not so easily swayed, she stood behind Anstice, shaking her head in disapproval. "You went over the wall."

"I'm very sorry I was late." Cricket ducked his head. "I didn't mean to be. We just got caught up in everything."

"Tell me you at least took Ignacia with you." Marwa sighed, defeated.

"I did."

"Thank you." She stepped over to pat his shoulder, a gesture that had always made him feel much better in spite of everything. Then she snatched a mochi from Anstice's hands, eliciting a squawk of protest, and headed for the door. "Go get cleaned up. Dinner is in a couple of hours, and if your uncle sees that mud still in your hair then he'll try to take scissors to it again."

"Yes ma'am." Cricket offered her a salute, a smile, and once she was gone, he rose from his chair, stretching. "Can you drop these off at my room? I've looked at last month's numbers, but I assume these are updated?"

Anstice nodded, her cheeks puffed up around what appeared to be a mochi in each. Cricket snorted, which turned into a full belly laugh. He rolled forward, holding his stomach as he chortled. When it finally wore off, and Anstice had somehow managed to chew, and swallow the two mochi without choking, Cricket leaned over the papers again to look at them.

His mouth pressed into a line, muddy fingers scrubbing over his face, leaving smudges in their wake. "Tell me they're happy, Anstice."

"They're happy. I know your father tries, but these smaller villages need updated agricultural tools so they can make enough off their crops to sustain not just themselves, but also their homes. You've done that for them."

The initiative had been simple. Cricket had ordered the latest in farming and magical technology be provided to the farmers of Candra and Natsuki. The people there hadn't seen an update in decades, probably longer. Like Anstice said, Father tried, but there were too many outliers, and not enough help. Then there was the issue of importance, and those who had a higher population were higher on the king's list. It was as simple as that. No one's fault. Cricket believed that the best thing he could do for those people was not to throw money at them, but to give them the tools they needed to succeed. It wasn't much, maybe Father would have done something else, but he'd entrusted them to Cricket. And Cricket had done what he thought was best.

"I'm sure Uncle would disagree."

"Yeah. Well." Anstice rolled her eyes. "Your uncle wouldn't know a good idea if it bit him in the ass."

Cricket nodded in agreement. Uncle Sunil was... He was... He was a bit backwards, as far as Cricket was concerned. And completely inflexible.

"Right. I better go have a bath. I'll see you later."

Anstice turned back to the papers, stuffing another mochi in her mouth, and began to gather them up as Cricket retreated to his rooms.

Uncle Sunil was still fuming, and a little red, by the time their soup arrived   
Uncle Sunil was still fuming, and a little red, by the time their soup arrived.

"And then he waltzes in, happy as you please, with a backside covered in mud!" he spat, hand gripping his spoon to the point of near bending the metal.

"I'd thought with that tree gone that'd be the end of you sneaking out," Father commented dryly, but there was a twinkle in his eye like he found the whole thing very amusing. Especially the way Uncle Sunil was turning a not-so-subtle shade of fuchsia. At least he wasn't vermillion again, Cricket counted that as a win.

Cricket shrugged. "I've gotten taller since the last time I tried to climb the wall without the tree."

"So you have."

"That is not the point!" Uncle Sunil hissed, brandishing a shaking finger at Cricket like a weapon. "And you damn well know it's not Jaxith."

"No, I suppose it's not." Father sighed, sitting back in his chair. "Cricket, you're not supposed to skip lessons. You know better."

"I do," Cricket agreed. "But I had Iggy quiz me on the material before we went out, and I answered all of her questions spot on. I didn't see the harm."

"Didn't see the...he didn't see the harm, Jaxith." Uncle Sunil repeated, his voice quivering on the edge of a shout. Except he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't shout in front of Father. He wouldn't shout in front of the servants. He was too dignified for all that.

"We could have Fumiya set up a test for him, to prove he's learned this month's material," Marwa suggested, ever the voice of reason. Cricket was struck again that he was lucky to have her on his side. She wasn't a mother, no. He'd never had one of those. But she was as good as one.

"And if he fails?" Uncle Sunil's dark eyes had fixed on Cricket, and Cricket wanted nothing more than to melt into his chair and never be heard from again. He hated when Uncle looked at him like that. Like he was nothing but a trial. Maybe he was, to Uncle, but no one else seemed to think so. Sure, he got into trouble, but he never did any irreparable harm.

"I won't." Cricket lifted his chin, meeting Uncle's eyes as best he could. Which was rather hard when Uncle was doing his best to look down on him.

"We can decide what to do with him after the results are in." Marwa had turned her attention to Uncle Sunil. Her eyes were hard and sharp. Cricket knew they didn't get along, although he was never sure why. It seemed to him that both of them wanted what was best for Lunette, and for Father, but neither could agree on what that was. "Does that sound reasonable, Your Highness?"

"Exceedingly. Have Fumiya prepare an exam." Father nodded.

Cricket picked up his spoon, intent on ignoring the rest of supper's conversations. Or at least only half paying attention to them now that he wasn't being sent directly to a monastery.

"Don't look so smug, you insolent—"

"Sunil," Father cut him off, sending Uncle Sunil a warning glare. "Cricket is the crown prince, and you ought to treat him as such. I understand that you think his education is lacking, but his marks are good, and I have never once had a complaint from any of his tutors."

"The monks would teach him better manners. That's where Helio sends their heirs." Uncle Sunil still had yet to touch his soup, and it seemed he was intent on not going down without a fight tonight. Which was a pity, because Cricket wasn't in the mood for a fight. "And all of them are upright, well-behaved children."

"It has never been our practice to send our heirs off to be schooled," Marwa reminded placidly when Father refused to say anything.

"There is a first time for everything."

"There is, but this is not the time for that. And besides, Cricket isn't a child anymore."

Cricket looked over at Anstice, and watched her eyes volley from her mother to his uncle with rapt attention. Honestly, how she could live on this drama, Cricket didn't know. He'd rather they just eat their dinner in companionable—or even tense—silence as opposed to this. And that was saying something as he hated silence.

"And his manners are fine," Marwa continued, setting down her soup spoon so she could meet Uncle Sunil head on. "There has never been a complaint about him from any of the emissaries, or the staff."

"He's insolent." Uncle Sunil was bracing himself on the table now as if at any moment he'd push to his feet.

"He's brave."

"They're laughing at him! And why shouldn't they be?! Look at him! He bandies about like a commoner! His hair is longer than any woman in the kingdoms! And he sloughs off all responsibility! He is a spoiled, arrogant, foolish child and you mark my words Jaxith—"

"That is enough!" Marwa rose to her feet, slamming her hands on the table. "They aren't laughing at him; they're laughing at you."

Cricket stopped dead, his spoon clattering down to the table as he drank in the scene. Marwa looked as angry as he'd ever seen her, and Uncle Sunil had skipped the rest of the red spectrum and gone straight to ghastly white in fury.

"They're laughing at you," Marwa continued, her voice a cold hiss. "With your backwards ways, and self-important attitude."

"Are you going to let her speak to me like this Jaxith?!" Uncle Sunil asked, his head swiveling to look at Father.

Father was silent. Taking his time to sit down his spoon, wipe his fingers on his napkin, and take a deep inhale. When he was done, he looked up and met Uncle Sunil's eyes. "Yes. I am."

"She is your advisor. A servant!" Uncle Sunil spat the words, slinging splittle along with them. "She's a servant and she sits at our table and eats with us like she's one of us. Like she's of royal birth! I am your brother! Your blood! And you choose her side over mine!"

"No. I choose my son's side over yours. Marwa is correct in her assessment of Cricket, and not entirely wrong in her criticisms of you." Father's voice was quiet. It always was. He didn't have to yell, or get angry. He spoke calmly and told the world as he saw it. It was one of the things Cricket admired most about him. Where Cricket could be mercurial, and passionate, Father was steady. The difference between a bubbling brook and a rushing river-bend. "The world has changed. We must change with it. And it starts with getting to know our people better. We do not now, nor have we ever, sat on a mountain apart from our people. If Cricket thinks his best chance to be a good king is to learn from them, then it is our responsibility to give him that opportunity."

Uncle Sunil's face went from ghastly pale to red again, thoroughly chastised. Cricket blinked in surprise watching as he stood from his chair, and left the table without another word.

Cricket blinked in surprise watching as he stood from his chair, and left the table without another word


	5. Chapter THree

Marwa Dresden was dead.

She was the king's closest friend. His most loyal advisor. An auntie to his son. A mediator. An intelligent, outspoken, just woman. A mother. And she was dead.

Marwa Dresden was dead, and it was all Cricket's fault.

She fell ill some days after her argument with Uncle Sunil. One evening her and Cricket had been caught out in the rain trying to round up the rabbits in the yard. By the next morning she'd developed a ghastly cough. Before a fortnight Selene had called her home.

It was all Cricket's fault.

"You can't just hide in your rooms all the time," Ignacia said, but Cricket hardly heard her. All he could think of was how he couldn't possibly face Anstice. Not after he'd killed her mother. She'd never forgive him, and she never should. If there was any kind of justice in the world Cricket would be next to catch cold, and he'd die before the week was out. "Are you listening to me?"

"No," Cricket mumbled, staring out across the lawns. Rain pelted the glass of his window, distorting the world outside in a melting mess of color. The grass was still green, the flowers were still blooming, the world was still so full of life. But it would never be the same. Never again. Because Marwa Dresden was dead.

"No?" Ignacia asked, her tone annoyed and incredulous. And that was fine, because Cricket deserved her ire. He deserved that and so much more. "What do you mean 'no'?"

Cricket shrugged, unable to say anything else. He wasn't even really sure what they were talking about anymore. His sketchbook lay discarded in his lap, a half-finished drawing of Marwa on the page. Already he could feel the image of her fading. Going fuzzy and indistinct around the edges as memories do. He'd wanted to paint her, so that Anstice would have something to remember her by. A real painting, not one of those stuffy portraits that hung in the hall of ancestors. Something that showed her at her best. But there was something about the eyes... it wasn't right.

Ignacia said something else. He didn't hear her over the pounding of the rain on the glass. It didn't matter anyway. They couldn't hold the funeral until it stopped raining. And it had been raining for four days. Since Marwa had passed. That seemed fitting, didn't it? For Selene to wash the earth away in her grief over the loss of one so loyal and true as—

The sketchbook on his lap was tugged away, and he jerked around to narrow a glare at Ignacia. She wasn't paying him any mind, her eyes were fixed on the sketch, assessing it. "What's wrong with it?"

"The eyes aren't right. They're not as... something, as they should be." Cricket sighed, leaning over to bump his head against the glass with a thunk.

"You can't keep blaming yourself for this. What happened isn't your fault, and Anstice doesn't blame you." Ignacia sat the sketchbook down on a nearby table, and perched herself on the window seat next to him.

"She should."

"No. She shouldn't. People catch colds, it happens. It's no one's fault."

"She shouldn't have been out there with me rounding up the rabbits. It was my responsibility. Father told me to do it." Cricket's head lulled to the side so he could look at her, but even then, he couldn't meet her eyes. "Uncle said I should have taken care of it by myself. Like a man."

Ignacia huffed, rolling her eyes. "Your uncle needs to learn when to keep his mouth shut."

Cricket opened his mouth to argue, and she wrapped her hand around it to keep him from doing just that.

"Marwa would have said the same thing. She didn't like how he always bullied you. It's not right. You're his nephew, he should be kinder."

Cricket tried to reply, but it was muffled by her hand.

"I won't hear any more of your nonsense. Get up. We're having lunch with Anstice in the bunny sanctuary, and she'll be expecting you." Ignacia pulled her hand away, and picked up the sketchpad again. "And I think you should put this on canvas. I know you've got some other sketches of her from your earlier work. Maybe those will help you get the eyes right. She'd want Anstice to have it."

"You think so?"

"Don't you?"

"Yeah... I suppose she would." He took the pad, looking down at the sketch. The eyes would be an easy enough fix once he started adding color. He could bring a life and light to them that just pencil couldn't. Or at least he hoped so, because he didn't think he could live with himself if he didn't pay homage to Marwa the only way he knew how, with paint. "Wait. Lunch?"

"Yes, lunch." Ignacia had moved away from him and was tidying his room. Scratch that, she was merely moving the mess from one place to another as there was really no way to tidy Cricket's room. The maids had long since given it up, and he honestly didn't want them to have to clean up after him when it got to be this bad.

"Whose idea was that?"

"Yours." She'd extricated a basket from somewhere amongst the mess and was piling his dirty laundry into it. "You really ought to have Callie come in here at least once a month and clean up."

"It's not Callie's job to make sure my room is tidy, it's mine. Father said so."

"Hm," Ignacia hummed grabbing a paint-stained pair of trousers from a chair.

"Not those! Those are my painting pants." He leaped up to snatch them from her. "And when did I decide to schedule a lunch?"

Ignacia dropped his "painting pants" where she found them and continued on gathering up the rest of the laundry. "Last night. When you fell asleep at your desk, and I wrote the invitations."

"That's illegal," he accused, carefully folding the pants and hanging them over the stool in front of his easel.

"I'd like to see you prove it." Ignacia smirked, dropping the basket just outside the door for one of the maids to pick up. "Now come along then. It'd be rude to schedule a memorial lunch with a grieving daughter, and then not show up."

"I hate you," Cricket said with no real bite.

Anstice was waiting for them with red rimmed eyes, and no fewer than five rabbits in her lap when they arrived. At the sight of Cricket, she let out a soft, but happy sob.

"Cricket! Oh, thank Selene, Cricky! I've missed you! Where have you been!" Anstice shooed the rabbits from her lap, picking her way across their pin, careful not to step on them. Then she was in front of Cricket, and her eyes were so wild, and hopeful, and sad that Cricket wanted to cry. But instead of smacking him, as she rightly should, she threw her arms around his neck to hug him close.

Cricket's wide gaze jerked to Ignacia, who was wearing an expression so smug he wasn't quite sure what to do with it.

"Come sit. Come sit," Anstice said, pulling back to let them in through the gate of the little enclosure.

"Anstice, I'm—" Cricket started, but before he could go any further, Anstice smacked him with her fan. "What in the name of Styx was that for?!"

"Don't you dare apologize. I don't want to hear it." Her tone had gone hard, her eyes narrowing. Cricket felt his stomach drop.

"Right. Of course. I'll just... I won't..." Cricket swallowed roughly around the rawness of unshed tears in his throat. He'd known this would happen; he'd just hoped to avoid facing that reality at least until after the funeral. "I'll leave you alone."

"What? What are you talking about? What's he talking about Iggy?" Anstice's head jerked to Ignacia, her expression confused.

"He thinks it's his fault," Ignacia supplied helpfully.

"Well, where did he get a stupid idea like that from?"

Ignacia didn't answer, but the look she gave Anstice must have spoken volumes.

"Why that self-righteous, arrogant, old goat. You know Mother always said he shouldn't be allowed to scold Cricket like he does. That yes, he's Cricket's uncle, but he shouldn't be allowed to help raise him." Anstice's face had gone quite red. She tapped her fan angrily against her open palm. "And you," she said smacking Cricket with the fan particularly hard in the neck.

"Ouch!" Cricket hissed rubbing the already reddening skin.

"Don't you start listening to him now. As your advisor, I'll tell you exactly what Mother would have said, whatever Sunil says, you just ignore him and do the opposite. He's usually wrong anyway, so that's a safe bet." Anstice nodded to herself, looking quite pleased with her words.

"But if I hadn't—"

Anstice smacked him again with her fan. "Honestly, Ignacia, how do you spend all of your time with this stupid boy?"

"Hey wait a minute. I'm not stupid." Cricket huffed, pouting.

"He's only stupid when he opens his mouth," Ignacia said with a shrug.

"Which is all the time," Anstice argued.

"I suppose that's fair."

"I'm still right here!"

"Come, Anstice, let's have some tea." Ignacia held out her arm for Anstice, and then guided her over to a table set up in the middle of the rabbit pen. Both of them completely ignoring Cricket's continued sulk.

The playful air and banter continued for the duration of their lunch. It was as if a bubble surrounded the trio, blocking out the rest of the world. As they sat together, they were not crown prince, not lady in waiting, not royal advisor. They were simply Cricky, Iggy, and Annie. Three very old friends, finding comfort in one another the way only old friends could.

The rain cleared shortly thereafter. As if Selene herself had taken comfort in their reunion, and found peace in the loss of Marwa Dresden.

The funeral was held the very next day. A small ceremony, which was no less meaningful and heartfelt for its meager numbers. Those who had come to face the mud were people who truly loved Marwa Dresden. People who were truly saddened by her passing.

Cricket's mind flashed back to the last Dresden funeral he'd been to. Five-year-old Anstice straight backed, and decked in traditional mens mourning silks as her father as lowered into the ground. They'd spent half the funeral trying to subtly scratch each other's backs without drawing Uncle's notice. Anstice looked more at home in the soft gown and shawl in white that she'd chosen for her mother's funeral. He was grateful for this small mercy as her body shook with sobs. She deserved whatever would make this day the littlest bit less horrible.

Uncle Sunil spent the entirety of the ceremony glaring at Cricket where he stood holding one of Anstice's hands, while Ignacia held the other. Cricket studiously ignored him, the day wasn't about Uncle Sunil and his strange penchant for propriety. It was about finding comfort in one another during the loss of one of their own. And if Uncle Sunil couldn't see that...well...

Father gave a moving speech that left not a single dry eye in the small gathering. And when it was all over, Anstice let out a whimper, and Cricket pulled her into a tight hug so she could press her running kohl-rimmed eyes against his itchy silk tunic. Ignacia waited with them, her hand making slow circles up and down Anstice's back to sooth her as the others left.

"She's gone, Cricky. She's really gone." Anstice's words were a muffled wail against his chest, but he didn't have to hear them well to understand. "She's gone and I'm all alone."

"You're not alone," Cricket murmured, squeezing her tighter to him. "You've still got me and Iggy and Father. We're going to take care of each other, just like we always have."

"We are," Ignacia said.

"I don't know if I can replace her." Anstice gripped the front of his tunic, wrinkling the silk. Cricket didn't complain, it was ruined anyway, and what was a tunic when it came to his best friend's comfort.

"You can't replace her," Cricket said, words soft. "No one can. And you won't."

Anstice pulled her head from his chest to look up at him. Her eyes were red rimmed again, puffy from crying, and she had streaks of kohl down her cheeks. He was sure he didn't look much better, and he knew Ignacia didn't either. In spite of everything, Marwa Dresden had been mother to them all in a way. She may have given birth to Anstice, but she'd raised the three of them. Made them siblings. Taught them how to rely on one another. Lunette would not be the same without her.

"I won't?"

"No. You won't." Cricket took a deep breath, forcing himself to hold Antice's gaze. He hated saying things like this. He hated making grand declarations. That was Father's job, Father's place. But he supposed now was as good a time as any to get a little practice. "You won't because like you said, no one can replace Marwa. And that's okay. You don't have to replace her; she wouldn't want you to. What she'd want is for you to do the job your way. Don't be Marwa Dresden, Royal Advisor to the king of Lunette."

Anstice blinked at him, her tears slowing as confusion replaced despair if just for the moment. "No?"

"No. Be Anstice Naveen Dresden, Royal Advisor to the king of Lunette, best friend to Prince Cricket, and hand-painted fan connoisseur." Cricket smiled a little. It was weak and wobbly around the edges, but it was a smile, nonetheless.

Ignacia was looking at him in awe, and then she winked, her lips tugging just a little at the corners into a grin of her own. "You think you can manage that Annie?"

"Yeah." Anstice nodded. "Yeah. I think I can."

\


	6. Chapter Four

Anstice chose the flashiest purple gown Cricket had ever seen in his life for her appointment ceremony. It had a long flowing train, and enough sparkly bits on it that he was sure they could see it in the mountains of Helio. But she was happy, and that was all that mattered to him. Between himself and Ignacia they had managed to twist her hair up into a crown braid befitting a queen, and Cricket couldn't have been prouder.

"Is it too much?" Anstice asked, giving them an elegant twirl, which Cricket found truly impressive for if he'd been in a dress that long and tried to spin around he was sure he'd have tripped. But that was Anstice, elegance and grace. She'd have made a wonderful princess, a beautiful queen, if she'd just been born to a king and not to the royal advisor.

"Maybe a little," Ignacia said, but there was a light in her eyes that only shimmered there when she was teasing.

"Oh you!" Anstice swatted Ignacia with her fan, and then laughed. "Fine. Fine. Cricky will tell me what I want to hear. Won't you Cricky? That is your duty, as prince."

"Is it?" he asked, lounging back on the foot of her bed, ankles crossed casually. "I didn't realize that had been added to the list."

"It was added the day I was born, and you tried to drop me down the stairs." Antice nodded primly.

"First of all," Cricket said, sitting up, and shaking a finger playfully at her. "I'm not even a whole season older than you, I wasn't much bigger than you were by the time you were born."

"That's because you were a runt." Ignacia snickered into the back of her hand, covering it with a cough, or trying to anyhow.

"Oi!" Cricket shouted, reaching over to shove Ignacia's shoulder, causing her to fall over onto the bed with another giggle. "No ganging up on me!"

"That's not in the rules."

"I've checked," Anstice added, turning to give herself another once over in the mirror. "And what's the second of all?"

"Well now I don't think I'll say, since apparently no one here has any respect for me." He crossed his arms over his chest, poking out his lower lip in a spectacular pout, if he did say so himself. "Annie doesn't deserve my compliments if she's just going to be mean to me."

Ignacie snorted, giving him a shove. "You heard his royal highness; we have to be nice to him now."

"Oh ew. No. What ever shall we do Iggy?"

"Clearly all that's left for us is to run away together. Come with me my darling Annie and leave this all behind." Ignacia rose, taking Anstice's hands in her own. "I'll take you away from this horrible, horrible prince."

They stared at each other for a long moment, and then the spell was broken, and they dropped into obnoxious giggles. Both throwing their heads back and cackling like old crones.

"Stop. Stop. It is too much. You'll make my makeup run." Anstice took a steadying breath, running her fingers carefully beneath her eyes.

"You're both terrible to me!" Cricket whined, flopping back onto the bed to stare up at Anstice's painted ceiling.

"Oh, you love us." Ignacia dropped back down beside him. "Besides, even if you didn't, we're all you've got."

"Don't remind me." He huffed.

"Hey!" Anstice shouted, kicking him in the shin with her shoe.

"Oi!" He sat up quickly, clutching his leg to himself, and cradling what was surely already bruising skin. "What was that for?! That's going to bruise!"

"Come and tell me I'm pretty on my special day or I'm kicking your ass out and you can go sit with your uncle." Anstice pointed her fan at him. It was a beautiful piece, commissioned specifically to match her gown. All swirling purple night skies, and glistening stars.

"You really shouldn't threaten people like that. It's unbecoming of a young lady."

"Here. Now. Compliments." Anstice pointed to the space right in front of her and raised a brow expectantly.

"All right. All right. So demanding." Cricket rolled to his feet to stand before her. He took Anstice's hands in his, giving them a light squeeze. "You, my dear baby sister. My best friend. The most ridiculous woman I've ever known. Look positively stunning. But not a lick of it would make any difference at all if it weren't a farce to cover up that insanely cunning brain of yours, would it?"

"Great Selene! I asked you to tell me I'm pretty, not to make me cry you big oaf!" Anstice laughed wetly, giving him a hard shove so he fell back onto the bed next to Ignacia.

"Careful what you wish for," he chided playfully, and earned a smack to the face with a pillow for his trouble.

***

Nobles from all over Lunette were in attendance at the new royal advisor's appointment ceremony. Each had their own motivations, but Cricket couldn't help but think a number of them were there to see a spectacle. He knew that his uncle was. Anstice was the youngest advisor appointed in centuries, and she was a quarter of the king's age. But that made no difference, Cricket knew she could do the job well. She'd serve Lunette just as well as her mother had.

A hush settled over the hall as Anstice made her way across the dais. Her train dragging behind her, fan tucked behind her back, and a serene look of surety on her face. It was the most grown-up Cricket had ever seen her, and he nearly cried at the sight.

"Please repeat after me. I, Anstice Naveen Dresden, do swear," the master of ceremonies was droning. Honestly, if they could get a new master of ceremonies that'd make things a little more interesting. Cricket leaned back in his chair, and then sat up again when Uncle Sunil cut him a look.

Anstice stood up straighter looking for all the world like a queen about to make a declaration for her people. Cricket couldn't fight the grin that took over his face. If it weren't for Uncle Sunil to the right of him, he may have leaned over to the lord on his left, nudged him and told the man that that was his best friend up there. But he was sure Uncle Sunil would have something to say about that.

"I, Anstice Naveen Dresd—"

A clattering of noise from the hall drew everyone's eyes, including Anstice. A messenger, hair disheveled, eyes wild, ran down the center of the room. His feet slapped against the stone, echoing in the now silent space. Cricket heard more than one nobleman gasp as he climbed the steps of the dais.

"Excuse me. Excuse me. I'm so sorry to intrude. Excuse me." The man panted, falling to his knees before Father. "I'm sorry, your highness, I didn't...I couldn't... This is too important."

Father reached for the man, pulling him to his feet. "What is it? What's happened?"

The man whispered something to Father that Cricket couldn't hear. Father glanced to Anstice, and she nodded quickly.

"Is there a way to hurry this along? It seems I have a duty to fill already?" Anstice asked the master of ceremonies.

His long white beard quivered, looking thoroughly put out by the whole affair, but he rushed through what was left of it. Cricket had never heard the man speak so fast in his life, and he was sure he never would again. But it didn't matter, because not ten minutes later they were all dismissed, the guests ushered to the dining hall for refreshments on Anstice's orders, and Cricket trailed behind Uncle Sunil into Father's private study.

The messenger had been provided with tea, and a comfortable chair. He looked less harried now than he had fifteen minutes ago, but no less worried. His fingers trembled around the porcelain teacup.

"Please. Tell the others what you have told me," Father said from where he stood looking out the large circular window that overlooked the city below. The only sign of his distress, the clenched hands behind his back. Cricket had known him long enough to recognize it, though he'd rarely seen it. That was the most worrying thing, Father didn't get distressed. He remained calm, and upright, always. But Cricket could see a curving about his shoulders, exhaustion maybe. It had been a long couple of weeks.

"There's been an outbreak!" The man's hands shook violently, splattering tea on his fingers.

"Let me," Antice said softly, taking the cup from him and setting it on one of the tables stacked in books. "Slow down, start from the beginning."

"An outbreak of what?" Uncle Sunil demanded, making the messenger wilt in on himself a little more.

"Don't scare him, Sunil." Anstice frowned, taking one of the man's shoulders to give it a gentle squeeze. "Go on, Theo. Tell them exactly as you told the king."

Theo nodded, a loud gulp coming from his throat before he started over. "For the last few weeks, we've seen a rise in magic all over the kingdom. At first it was little stuff; it could be shrugged off as that time of year. You know how it swells when the seasons change, and with all the rain we've had...well...it only made sense that nature would be a little off kilter. And none of the magic seemed malevolent, so it seemed normal."

"Which villages were these?" Anstice asked, moving to the big table in the middle of the room that Father had sprawled a great map across.

"It's all over," Theo breathed.

"Keep going," Father said, still not turning to face the room.

"Two days ago, the magic turned dark. Destructive." Theo reached for the tea again, seeming to need something to hold onto to steady himself. "There are reports from all over the kingdom of dragon attacks, whole villages disappearing, witches running amok, fairies stealing children. It's chaos."

"Do you have the reports?" Anstice was clenching the table, her knuckles turning white. Theo looked up at her confused. "I need exact locations."

"We should send out the army," Uncle Sunil said. "I'll send word to general Eytan. We can start planning the attack—"

"No," Anstice stopped him. She took the scroll of reports from Theo, reading over them quickly and waving a hand across the map. When Cricket moved to her side little lights glowed in the places that had been attacked. Cricket frowned down at the map. Anstice's eyes had gone sharp, she was seeing something he wasn't.

"No?" Uncle Sunil asked, sounding irritated. "I beg your pardon, Anstice, but you've been the royal advisor for a grand total of two minutes. You don't get to make that decision. Jaxith. We must send out the army at once. If this is some kind of magical warfare, we have to get ahead of it."

"Your Highness, you need to see this." Anstice rolled the scroll back up, setting it aside. Her hands clasped and unclasped around her fan. Cricket took a step towards her, tilting his head to see it from a different angle. But it didn't make sense. None of it made sense.

"What is it?" Father asked, leaving his place at the window to join them at the table.

"Jaxith!" Uncle Sunil argued, but Father waved him away.

"It just doesn't make sense," Anstice muttered, tapping her fan on the table. "None of it makes sense."

Father leaned over, a growing tightness between his brows as he looked over the dots. They glittered like jewels on the pale paper. Flickering with the magic Anstice had embedded in them.

"This doesn't look like a war strategy." Anstice shook her head. "They're scattered too much. And look, they're not even hitting any of the cities close to the capital."

"Do we have dates for them?" Cricket asked, tilting his head the other way.

Anstice nodded. "Let's do them in order of brightness. The brightest the first, the dimmest the most recent."

Another tap of her fan on the table and some of the lights dimmed while others grew near blinding. Cricket huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. That made even less sense. "There's no order to it."

"No. It doesn't even look like they're moving in a straight line," Anstice agreed.

"If anything, they're moving away from the palace and towards the mountains that border Helio." Father's finger stroked a path from the brightest to dimmest of them, showing what he meant.

"Yes, but in a zig zag. How does that make any sense?" Anstice shook her head.

"Since when has terrorism made sense?!" Uncle Sunil barked from too close to Anstice's ear. Anstice winced, rubbing at it with a frown.

"No need to shout." Anstice glared at him.

Cricket's brows drew together. He took a step back from the map, tilting his head one way and then the other. When that didn't help make sense of what he was seeing he walked around the table. Doing a full three laps while Anstice and Uncle Sunil bickered. Anstice was right, it didn't make sense. Not even for a terrorist attack. No. This was something else. It was strategic, but made to look random it was—

"A distraction," Cricket muttered.

Anstice and Uncle Sunil stopped growling at one another to look at him.

"What was that Cricket?" Father asked.

"It's a distraction. It's not a terrorist attack, it's not any kind of attack. It's a distraction. To draw the army away from the palace, and leave us defenseless." He nodded to himself, surer of it now than before. "If you send the army out, we will be attacked, and we will be overtaken."

"Then what would you suggest we do?" Uncle Sunil crossed his arms over his chest, his expression every part smug and self-satisfied. As if he knew better than anyone else. Than Father. Than Anstice. Than Cricket. But he didn't. Cricket had never been more sure of it.

"A small envoy, to break up the disturbances. Don't you think Anstice?"

Anstice nodded. "Yes, something that won't leave the palace defenseless, but will ensure to our people that they're being cared for. Most of these will probably resolve themselves in time, but someone should be sent. A representative."

"Me." Cricket smiled. "I'll go."

There was a clatter from where Theo had dropped his teacup, and every head in the room turned to look at Cricket. Each wearing a slightly different worried expression.

"Cricket. Son. No." Father shook his head.

"That's insanity." Ignacia glared at him. He wasn't sure when she had gotten there, but she'd heard enough of the conversation apparently to make the assessment that he'd lost his mind.

"No, it makes sense. We want our people to know that we care about their suffering. That we want to see this resolved. We want to make sure they feel heard. The best way to do that is to send one of our own." It was reasonable, he thought. And why shouldn't he go? Father couldn't, neither could Uncle or Anstice. He was the best qualified.

"We should send one of the higher-ranking soldiers," Ignacia said. "Someone with enough clout to make them feel safe, but who isn't the heir."

"The people don't know any of the soldiers," Cricket argued.

"So?"

"No. He has a point," Anstice said, tapping her fan to Cricket's shoulder. "They don't know any of the soldiers. Our army tends to work as a faceless unit with the king at the head. It's not that none of them could handle this, they all could. But the people don't know them. They don't know their names."

"This is a stupid idea." Ignacia frowned.

"I agree with Ignacia, we can't take this chance." Uncle Sunil moved to stand beside her, and Ignacia took a not-so-subtle step away from him.

"In the end, this is your choice, Son." Father sighed, his shoulders sagging. He looked tired. Defeated. Heartbroken. Cricket hated it. He hated that he was the one making Father look like that. But what other option was there? None.

"His choice?!" Uncle Sunil shouted, turning pink, but before he could move further into the red family Father shook his head.

"Yes, his choice. Whether we approve or not, Cricket is going to do what he thinks best, as any good king would. And we cannot stop him."

"This is...Jaxith... He could..." Uncle Sunil was floundering for words.

Cricket met Anstice's eyes, saw her nod. There was a twinkle there in her eyes, a reminder of what they'd said not but a fortnight ago in the bunny pen. Whatever Uncle Sunil said, Cricket should do the opposite.

"I'll go."

"Then he should take one of the soldiers." Uncle Sunil sounded defeated, like he was being beaten at some game he didn't know he was playing. "I'll appoint you a—"

"Uncle," Cricket laughed, shaking his head. "I don't need a bodyguard. I'll take my sword, and I'll take Iggy. That will be enough. Have a little faith in your nephew, yeah?"

"Unless you don't think he's capable?" Anstice asked, but it didn't sound like a question. It sounded like a challenge.

"I never said that." Uncle Sunil huffed, deflating.

"Then you can leave in the morning." Father nodded. "Sunil, have a servant prepare a room for Theo. He deserves a rest after riding all this way. Ignacia, I trust you can handle the horses. Anstice, I'd like a map made up for Cricket, he ought to head to the places where the magic is at its most dangerous."

"Yes, Your Highness." Anstice and Ignacia nodded. Then they, Uncle Sunil, and Theo all left to complete their respective tasks.

It was quieter than Cricket would have liked once they were all gone. Father still had his hands folded behind his back; his eyes fixed on the map.

"Father—" Cricket started but then stopped, unsure of what he was going to say. Was he going to apologize? Was he going to say thank you? What? He didn't know.

Father sighed, leaning heavily against the table. "You must be careful, Cricket. And come back to me in one piece."

"I will." Cricket nodded. "I'll make you proud."

"Of that, I have no doubt." Father smiled, shaking his head. "Just try not to get into too much trouble along the way, yes?"

"I don't make any promises."

Father laughed, the worry leaving his features. "Go to bed. You have an early start ahead of you, and I know how you hate mornings."

"Yes, Father."


End file.
